


The Value of Being Unfailingly Kind

by Mel_Malone



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Good Draco Malfoy, Good Sister Petunia Evans, Harry Potter is a Good Friend, Hufflepuff Harry Potter, M/M, Petunia Never Married Vernon, Powerful Harry, Ravenclaw Hermione Granger, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, and harry just wants to do the most good for people, bc i wanted happiness for petunia and harry, but he also won't go out of his way to help people who would hurt him, harry was raised in part by a hufflepuff, i just wanted a fic where petunia loves harry, i mess with the timeline with newt scamander stuff, or help people so much that he doesn't take care of himself, this boy has so much love, who is newt scamander's son
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:31:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25100155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mel_Malone/pseuds/Mel_Malone
Summary: "Just like your mother, you're unfailingly kind... a trait people never fail to undervalue, I'm afraid."But what if a few people valued it so much more in the moments it mattered?-A fic in which Harry Potter has been lovingly raised by his aunt and uncle, Petunia and Connor Scamander. When he ventures into the wizarding world, everyone he meets is surprised to find that he's not quite the bold and brave savior they imagined.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Petunia Evans Dursley & Harry Potter, Petunia Evans Dursley & Lily Evans Potter, Petunia Evans Dursley/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 185





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> i'll be honest, i don't know how long this fic will be or how often i'll update it, but it serves the sole purpose of being the place i go to when i need soft, good vibes and i feel bad about ranting to my friends about soft harry headcanons. i read a blind harry fic where petunia loved harry and the concept? warmed my heart? plus, i've seen tons of slytherin!harry and even a lot of ravenclaw!harry, but little hufflepuff!harry that wasn't crack or a short one-shot... and me and my hufflepuff friends want in on that house-switching harry action, you know?
> 
> also, for people who are uncomfortable with major character death, i'm not completely sure at this stage if cedric and all the other characters who die throughout the later books will die in this because i do plan to have canon divergences as a result of hufflepuff harry and all his morals and viewpoints. for the time being, i'm just leaving that warning up because i honestly don't know if i'll even stick with this long enough to get to fourth year and if i do, i miiiight leave some canon deaths??? probably not though. like i said, this is just for the fluff and the tooth-rotting sweetness. if you have any other questions about how the story might change, feel free to ask because i can and will share millions of hufflepuff harry headcanons and musings all day long.
> 
> hope you'll enjoy!

_**"Just like your mother, you're unfailingly kind... a trait people never fail to undervalue, I'm afraid."** _

_But what if a few people valued it so much more in the moments it mattered?_

-

Petunia Evans of number eighty-three, Hollow Street, was reluctant to say that she was perfectly normal, thank you very much. She was the last person anyone would expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious because she just seemed so open (and rather plain, to tell the truth).

She was a medical scribe for the nearby hospital, but she quite liked her job despite the monotony of it. Even though she didn't have the skills or the intelligence to be an actual doctor, she was glad to help improve other people's lives in whatever way she could. In particular, though, she was proud of her speed, accuracy, and memory. Her co-workers liked to joke that she was magical due to her work of near-perfection and complete precision. 

Well, they were rather close to the truth. Her sister, Lily, was in fact the magical one, and Petunia had not an ounce of such abilities. At first, she'd been conflicted about it and had even bullied her sister for what she could do, but one day something happened.

The Wizarding War broke out.

Technically, according to Lily, it had been around for years. As far as Petunia was concerned, it started the day Lily came home for winter holidays her sixth year, and the light had drained from her usually twinkling green eyes. Something about that sight broke a part of Petunia, or, rather, an already broken part of her snapped back into place. Whatever the case, she made amends and swore to support Lily no matter what. 

Which was why, when Petunia started dating a man named Vernon Dursley who originally seemed nice enough, she immediately dumped him the moment he spoke rather nastily about Lily. There were other men, she reasoned to herself, but she only had one sister. It wouldn't have been worth it to be with someone like him anyway. He wanted a very normal life, and she spent too much of her life envying the splendor of the magical world to settle for someone who was satisfied to fade into the background.

There was a brief moment at Lily's wedding, where after Lily had prodded Petunia about when the next wedding would be and Petunia more or less explained this sentiment, James jokingly suggested that Petunia get to know his best friend, Sirius. Meeting the man was an experience that was almost enough to make her wonder if a normal life was such a bad thing. Almost. 

Still, she remained alone, hoping a magical life could find her despite her lack of actual magic. She had a chance to more directly help Lily when she and James asked her if she would like to be their Secret Keeper after explaining their plan to go into hiding. They reasoned that since she was a Muggle, no one would guess it would be her. However, Petunia thought it would be far too obvious; their first choice would be Sirius, and after that, Lily's dear sister. No, for once she agreed with Sirius on this: They needed their Secret Keeper to be Peter Pettigrew. He was trustworthy enough but definitely not what anyone would ever expect. 

She was quite reluctant to say no, though. If she could help the Wizarding World even in such a small way, maybe it could be enough to satisfy her childhood desire to have magic like Lily. Still, this was the practical choice. It was for the best. For Lily and James.

And for Harry. 

Little Harry Potter, with messy black hair like his father and bright green eyes like his mother. Too young to know the turbulent atmosphere of the Wizarding War he'd been born into. Too innocent and small for his relatives or family friends to be okay with this war going on long enough for him to be involved at a later age. 

Petunia was walking to her flat after a long day at work on the first of November, feet in comfy trainers with the heels she wore at work in her bag, when she noticed something very peculiar. There was a cat sitting outside her flat again. Well, maybe not again. That very morning, a tabby with similar markings was sitting in that spot, looking rather stiff for a cat. Perhaps...

She stopped in front of the cat, stooping to look at it more closely. It looked up at her with big, luminous eyes before opening its mouth slightly with a soft meow. 

"You wouldn't happen to belong to a wizard, would you?" Petunia found herself asking. Then, she thought for a second. "Or, do they only adopt black cats?" 

The cat tilted its head, and its tail twitched. Petunia thought this stiffness and seeming intelligence was too weird to be a coincidence. On top of that, the news had said something about falling stars and strange behavior of owls swooping around in the sky. Plus, she had recognized the long, colorful robes and pointy hats she'd caught people wearing on her lunch break. Something had happened. Something big. 

She just hoped it was also something good, for the Potters' sake. 

Crossing her arms, Petunia frowned at the cat. "Maybe you are a witch or wizard yourself. I wouldn't doubt that there's magic to do so. Plus, you're far too poised for a cat, you know? Even they're much looser than you."

In response, the cat blinked once before standing, slinking around Petunia once, and stretching out in front of Petunia's flat. The cat's eyes seemed to have a dry humor in them. 

"The fact that you did that does very little to convince me that you are a real cat." Looking around, she checked to make sure that no one noticed that she was talking to a cat before she whispered, "Well, whatever you want, you better be one of the good ones because if anything happens to me, I have an amazingly intelligent sister with a hellish fury."

The cat's eyes seemed to widen as Petunia stood up and finally unlocked and entered her flat. It seemed surprised about the fact that Petunia would say something like that about Lily, but Petunia was too tired to really invest much care into what the cat was doing. She figured if it was one of those Death Eaters Lily told her about, she would have been killed already, so she was otherwise... safe? Unless they were playing a long game, but Lily never implied that any Death Eaters were smart enough or patient enough to do so. 

Regardless, she went about her evening the same as always: Heating up leftovers to eat and reading a book to settle herself down before she went to bed. 

But then someone knocked on her door. 

Figuring it was either the cat, or, assuming the cat was just a normal feline, the cat's owner, she made her way to the door cautiously. Death Eaters wouldn't knock, she eventually decided before opening the door. 

Standing before her were two wizards - a man in soft lilac robes with long, silvery hair and a matching beard, and a woman in emerald green robes with dark hair tucked into a tight bun. The woman's glasses looked quite like the black markings around the tabby's eyes, and while Petunia was looking at the woman's eyes, she noticed they looked puffy. Had she been crying?

"Good evening," the man calmly began, light blue eyes twinkling behind half-moon spectacles. "Are we at the residence of Petunia Evans?"

"Yes," she said. "I'm Petunia. And you are?"

"Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," the man introduced himself. "I believe we corresponded once or twice while your sister attended school there. This is Minerva McGonagall, my Deputy Headmistress."

It was as he introduced the woman beside him and she looked over Petunia with suspicion before glancing plaintively to the basket Dumbledore held in his hands that Petunia even realized the basket was there. He held it close to him, which Petunia thought was odd because wizards could levitate anything they needed to so they didn't have to hold something as big as the basket was. She stepped forward to see what was inside, but Dumbledore cleared his throat. 

When her attention returned to him, he gave her a patient but sad smile. "Can we come in? There's a matter of utmost importance we must discuss."

She let the wizards inside, but after that day, she would always wonder what would happen if she didn't. What would they have done if she refused to acknowledge the sadness in their eyes or the weird happenings of that day? 

What would have become of Lily's son if she hadn't taken him in?


	2. time for answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took a while, but I hope it was worth the wait. 
> 
> In this chapter, I present to you Connor Scamander, Newt Scamander's son, loving husband to Petunia, and caring uncle to Harry. And you'll see a bit of Sage the black and white half-Kneazle (though Harry doesn't really know its magical heritage yet).

Harry woke with a start, breathing heavily as he braced himself on his forearms. He could still see the vivid bolt of green heading straight towards him that ended the dream, even if the rest of the details were fuzzy. Once he got his breathing settled, he sighed and dragged his hands back through his hair as he laid back down. These strange dreams kept haunting him, and he didn't want to tell his aunt and uncle about them because he knew they'd worry.

A soft mew filled the dark silence and the weight on the bed besides Harry's feet had shifted. Before he knew it, whiskers were scratching against his face, causing him to laugh. 

"Sage," he whispered while carefully searching in the dark for her ears to scratch behind. As if the cat either knew what he intended or (more likely) desired scratches behind the ears, she moved back into his hand and rubbed her head against his palm. "I'm fine, girl. Didn't mean to wake you up, though."

Sage purred contentedly in response and nuzzled the side of her face into his palm before walking onto his chest and settling there for the rest of the night. She had a tendency to snuggle up with him and take up his attention whenever he had a nightmare or even when he was just stressed. Harry was grateful for it even if he had no idea how she always knew the right time to comfort him. It was strange and almost unbelievable, but he just supposed that cats were much smarter or at least much more emotionally aware than most people (himself included) thought. 

When it came to things he didn't understand or thought was strange, he got used to accepting them. A good example of this was Uncle Connor's study; Harry was never allowed in, but the door was always unlocked "for emergencies," so Connor had said. And there were apparently a lot of emergencies, considering all the loud noises and shouts that came from the study with Connor frequently running out and shutting the door behind him with a stricken expression. Most people would probably have been at least a little concerned, but after growing up with these events happening not so infrequently, Harry considered this a typical part of life in the Scamander household. 

On that note, he never really knew what the man was studying, but whatever it was had something to do with cats. At least, it used to. One of his earliest memories was running into the study while playing a game with his aunt. He couldn't see his uncle anywhere, but he was nearly knocked over by one of the biggest cats he'd ever seen before, who sniffed him thoroughly before licking him delicately. And suddenly, his uncle had appeared--- almost as if out of thin air! He gave Harry a stern talking-to, causing Harry to almost consistently remember to knock loudly if he needed to get Connor while he was in the study ever since. 

And it might have helped that Connor promised he'd get the excited younger Harry a cat like the one in the study as long as he was good about knocking...

As Harry smiled at this reminder of how his feline companion came into the house, he scratched under her chin and drew out more content purring. Soon, though, the green light from his nightmare - could it be called a nightmare if he didn't know why the green light was frightening? - returned to the forefront of his thoughts. His recurring dreams were something else he couldn't understand but grew used to. Sometimes it was the imposing green light, sometimes it was a flying motorcycle. The motorcycle felt somehow less threatening than the light, and the absurdity of it felt comforting. However, he didn't want to tell his aunt and uncle about that dream either. 

The problem was, whenever he tried to ask or talk about things like the study, his uncle grew uncharacteristically quiet while his aunt became unusually tense. To their credit, at least they didn't lie. When Harry asked about the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead, Connor looked to Petunia with a raised eyebrow, and Petunia promised she would tell him when he was older. When his primary school teacher's hair turned blue at the exact moment Harry was wondering what she'd looked like with her color, neither of them dismissed him as ridiculous when he admitted aloud (later, at home) that he was sure it was his fault. Instead, his aunt quietly replied that she'd hoped he was mistaken. He couldn't even ask how Tuney met Connor without them giving bittersweet smiles and saying it was a story for a later time. 

He wasn't really mad about it so much as he was simply confused. By the time his eleventh birthday was around the corner, he'd long since accepted it, patiently trusting his family and that they would tell him anything he needed to know when it became important. Besides, there were other things to be concerned with, weren't there? Whatever happened in the study was never a match for Connor, especially when he'd gotten time to regroup. Why would Harry care about the scar on his forehead when he had quite a few others on his knees from falling while playing? As for his aunt and uncle meeting, it was probably a cute and/or embarrassing story that would gross out most little kids. His teacher's hair... Well, he couldn't really forget or dismiss that, but stranger things have happened. 

With Sage still resting peacefully on his chest, Harry relaxed and let the nightmare go for now the way he let go of all the other mysteries that tried to tug at his focus. He tried to follow the cat's example and go back to sleep. 

However, he had no idea that almost every little question in the back of his mind would soon be answered. The life he thought was normal would reveal its true fantastical nature, for that very night, an owl dropped a letter at the doorstep of the house.

-

"They were supposed to send someone from the school."

"Petunia, darling, why would they when I'm here? Besides, you already know a bit about this, enough that you could explain it to him on your own if needed."

Harry stopped in his tracks mid-yawn a couple feet down the hall from the kitchen. It was summer holidays, which normally meant that he would have slept in, but he couldn't sleep for long after his nightmare. He'd planned to join Connor and Petunia at the table while they had their morning coffee. As soon as he heard his guardians' voices in barely-contained whispers, he approached the kitchen doorway more carefully. Normally, he wouldn't eavesdrop on them, but part of him didn't want to disturb their conversation while the rest of him was curious about what they were talking about. 

"But I don't know where to start!" his aunt said, sounding distraught as her voice broke. "What if we do it all wrong?"

His uncle soothed her, calmly replying, "That's what you worried about when Harry was first placed into your care, but he's growing up to be a good young man. The most we can do - him included - is our best."

So they were talking about him? What were they going to tell him? About his parents? Whenever Petunia was at work, leaving Harry with Connor, his uncle would always calmly respond that Harry would know everything by the time he was eleven, and his eleventh birthday was only several weeks away now. 

Silence fell for a moment, and Harry considered peeking into the kitchen but thought better of it. Either his aunt was weighing whatever decision needed to be made about Harry, or she was kissing Connor, neither of which was worth risking being caught. 

When his aunt finally spoke again, she sounded tired. "We could wait till tomorrow."

"After breakfast at the latest. Don't you think we've already waited long enough?"

"... Okay. Okay, you're right, like you always are with these things." Harry smiled at the release of tension as Petunia took on a little bit of a joking tone with that sentence. "Magic always was your strong spot."

Harry slapped a hand to his mouth in shock at his aunt's statement. Magic? What was that supposed to mean? Magic wasn't real, and he knew Petunia was uncomfortable with the notion that it was. At least, what else was he supposed to think when she steered clear of fairy tales and fantasy movies? He didn't have long to wonder, though, because his uncle replied soon enough. 

"It should be when you're the most magical part of my life." Petunia must have given Connor a stern look in response to his unashamed cheesiness, because he continued, "Well, it must take some kind of magic to be able to live without it in day-to-day life so easily. You've no idea how many mornings I wanted a Pepper-Up Potion instead of coffee when dropping Harry off at school."

Potion? Was that what Connor said? Potions and magic - Harry must have gone back to sleep and not even realized it. But would he notice that he was asleep at all if it were a dream? Oh, this was all too confusing. 

His thoughts were interrupted when his aunt laughed softly, and Harry smiled at the sound despite his bewilderment at whatever they were talking about. She'd sounded so worried before. 

Deciding that he really was awake, he waited a few more minutes to let their conversation turn to chores before he walked into the kitchen, stretching his arms up like he'd only just gotten out of bed. He needed to find out the meaning of that nonsensical conversation. 

"Morning, Tuney," he said, walking over to give her a kiss on the cheek and a hug. "Morning, Connor."

Smiling, his aunt returned the peck. "Someone woke up early."

"I wanted to help with breakfast."

Petunia exchanged looks with Connor before pulling the chair next to her out. "Before we get started on that, why don't you sit down for a bit? Your uncle and I have something to tell you."

Since he suspected this had something to do with the snippet of conversation he overheard, he sat without argument, asking, "What is it?"

"You know how we've been avoiding the subject of where you'll be attending secondary school?" Connor paused, exhaled, and admitted, "And--- well, that's not the only subject we've been avoiding."

Petunia tapped the envelope in her grasp against the side of her other hand nervously, and it was then that Harry noticed it. It shimmered as it moved like light itself was woven into the paper, and it had a red wax seal on the flap. Truthfully, it wasn't too far off from what Harry imagined an invitation to meet the queen looked like. 

"Your parents--- your mother," she corrected, evidently still unsure where to start or how to go about this. "Your mother, Lily, had these... extraordinary abilities, you see. She could make wilted flowers sprout up like new again, and she could make a pile of fall leaves fly around her like butterflies when she was your age. I used to think--- well, I was jealous, so I used to call her names, but I always thought it was beautiful. I still do, now." Her eyes looked glassy, and her voice caught in her throat during her small confession. "And you, when you were younger, you managed to do so many curious things that I don't think you even noticed or knew about."

A wistful smile tugged at Connor's lips, and he chuckled, "Laying you down to sleep when you were excited was such a challenge. You'd float out of bed some nights."

"I'd almost forgotten about that," Petunia admitted, laughing along with him. 

"What are you trying to say?" interjected Harry, justifiably perplexed. 

His aunt looked him straight in the eye now, visibly steeling herself for what she was about to say. "Harry, dear, the reason all those weird things happened is that your mother was a witch, and you're a wizard."

_"What?"_

"You're a wizard," she repeated with a grin, placing a hand over one of his. "You can do magic, all sorts of wonderful things."

Blinking at this confession, Harry swallowed thickly and leaned forward in his seat. "Magic isn't real, though. Right? I don't--- Weird stuff just happens sometimes, yeah?"

Petunia looked to Connor and gave him a sharp nod. Harry didn't know what that meant until Connor took out a wooden stick and flicked it. Before Harry could really register what was happening, a cabinet door opened to reveal three plates floating up from the stack set inside, and a drawer opened, sending three sets of silverware out. The plates and silverware hovered above their heads, almost dancing in a circle before they set themselves down gently - all with the movement of that stick in Connor's hand. 

With a sharp nod, Harry's uncle - Harry's _magical_ uncle - lowered the stick and said simply, "Magic is all too real."

Disbelief still tugged at Harry despite the evidence before his eyes. He poked at the fork in front of him warily before his eyes darted back up to that brown stick in Connor's hand. Part of him wanted to ask for that stick, to inspect it, but he worried that if he held it, the plates and forks might accidentally shoot off the table and smash into a wall or some other accident might happen. But that even fear itself was acknowledging the bizarre reality of the situation: Harry _could_ do that. He could move plates with the flick of a wrist, or change a woman's hair color on a whim, or float out of a crib if he so desired. 

_He could do magic._

His fingers buried themselves into his thick, black hair, and he leaned back in the kitchen chair. "My mother... She did stuff like this? I... I can do this?"

"It'll take a few years for you to be able to do that without saying spells," Connor admitted, "but once you get a wand and a spellbook, there's barely anything you can't do with practice and skill."

 _"Barely_ anything? Then what happened to her? And my father?"

Sighing in resignation, Petunia explained everything. She started slow, talking about how Harry's parents met at a school for magical children called Hogwarts. Then, she laid down the painful truth that she must have been avoiding for all of Harry's life. While Lily and James were learning magic, a dark wizard accumulated power and gained followers. He murdered, tortured, and terrorized wizards and witches and espoused harmful ideologies against those without a purely magical heritage. No one could stop him, except for when he came upon the Potters. Because of their previous acts of defiance against him, he sought out Harry's parents and found them in hiding. He killed Lily and James, but when he tried to do the same to Harry, something went wrong. The dark wizard fell, leaving nothing behind save for the lightning-shaped scar on Harry's forehead.

"And the night after," Petunia finished, "you were brought here so I could raise you away from the magical world. Though, I guess that didn't completely work out..." She snuck her arm into the crook of her husband's arm and leaned her head on his shoulder. 

Despite the grim tale she told, Harry allowed himself a moment of peace as his uncle patted Petunia's arm comfortingly. Then, he asked the question that was weighing on his mind. "All of that was honestly troubling, so I understand why you didn't want to tell me so soon, but what changed? Why did you want to tell me now?"

Petunia slid the envelope in front of her over to Harry. He'd forgotten about it with all that she'd had to say, but now, it was another strange little mystery that he'd soon understand. "Your mother's school, they sent a letter. You'll be attending it to learn how to use magic."

"Really?" Harry asked, picking up the envelope and looking over the fancy script.

Connor chimed in, "Of course. Hogwarts is the finest school for all wizards and witches in Britain. You'll have loads of fun."

As Harry opened the envelope to read the letter, he grinned. Magic! He'd be learning actual, real magic! While he was looking over the list of supplies, his aunt got up to start cooking breakfast, kissing his uncle before she headed to the stove. That reminded him...

Lowering the letter, he brought up another question he'd asked his guardians for ages but never got an answer for. "So, wait, how did you two meet?"

"I can tell this story," Connor volunteered, beaming at the memories. "It starts when I was a student at Hogwarts. You see, your mother and I didn't have any classes because I was two years ahead of her and we were in different houses, but I happened to fall victim to a few of your father's pranks back in the day. They were in good fun, and I wasn't hurt or anything, but Lily would always tell James off - it was kind of frightening sometimes, to be honest. And after, she'd make sure I was okay, and eventually, we talked more and more and became friends. She'd tell me about her home life, about her wonderful, amazing sister---"

While Petunia whisked some eggs in a bowl, she smiled sadly. 

"---and I'd tell her about my family and the expectations set upon me. After Hogwarts, she joined the fight against Voldemort, and I kept my head down. I wasn't brave like her, I didn't feel qualified enough to join a war. I figured, what could I do? Fight dark wizards by having Nifflers steal all their jewelry?" Though Connor chuckled, Harry didn't get the joke and made a mental note to find out what a Niffler was. "But your mother contacted me a bit after your parents got married and asked if I could do her a favor. 'Help the fight without fighting,' she said. She asked if I could keep an eye on Petunia and make sure no one hurt her to try to to get to them. I figured it was the least I could do for a dear friend, so I moved in down the street from her, cast a few wards and protective charms on her home, and made sure no other wizards really even had a chance to notice her. After she took you in, I stuck around to make sure any lingering followers of Voldemort didn't try to attack either of you. And then," Connor exhaled with a smile and shot a loving glance Petunia's way, "whether through a slip-up on my part or an extra-protective fervor on hers---"

"Probably both," offered Petunia, frying up bacon to go with the scrambled eggs.

Smiling, Harry's uncle finished, "---your aunt noticed me and practically interrogated me on who I was, what I was doing, and why she kept seeing me around. It was quite terrifying, actually - I finally understood how James felt whenever Lily tore him to shreds."

"What did you expect from her sister?" Harry joked. 

"You're right." Connor nodded somberly as he helped Petunia serve the food. "I should have seen it coming. An Evans woman is a force of nature, not to be trifled with."

While she brought over glasses of water to the table, Petunia concluded, "And don't you forget it."

"I never have, love," he said as they sat back down to eat breakfast. 

Harry smiled at the positive turn in the conversation, tucking the letter back into the envelope before setting it aside. There'd be time to worry about all things magic later. For now, he had the answers to the biggest questions, so he just wanted to enjoy breakfast with his family.


	3. a friendly face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, since I'm doing Hufflepuff Harry and Ravenclaw Hermione in this story, I felt like Hermione should be the first person Harry meets since they'll have the most classes together based on what I can see by the shared classes in canon. Also, I feel like this is like... the happiest House combination of the two friends? No offense to canon Harry, but he does clearly have a favorite between Ron and Hermione, at least in the beginning, and I feel like a more open-minded Hufflepuff Harrry wouldn't think that Hermione is shrill, bossy, or annoying, and would probably see her side of things more often. (Plus, Ravenclaw Hermione has my whole heart. Imagine her being closer friends with Luna. I feel like they'd have such funny and chaotic interactions.)
> 
> By the way, I swear I want to have regular updates on all my stories, but I picked up crocheting as a hobby, and it's kind of taken over my life. Speaking of which, though, I need some volunteer hours for school, so if anyone else wants to pick up this hobby or learn some special patterns/stitches in particular, feel free to message me on Instagram at the username puffbadgercrochet and we can arrange a Zoom call for me to teach you. :)

Harry clung to his aunt's hand when he, Tuney, and Connor entered the pub known as The Leaky Cauldron. He didn't know if he was holding her hand for himself or for her, considering that she'd been concerningly pale all morning, but he suspected it was a combination of the two. This place wasn't as magical as he'd been expecting, but the people wore funny, extravagant clothes - long, colorful robes and pointed hats. He felt like he and his aunt stuck out like a sore thumb in their plain shirts and trousers. A few people certainly seemed to agree based on their glances. Did they recognize him?

No, they couldn't have. Connor said that while everyone in Magical Britain knew who Harry was, the most identifiable feature about him would be the scar on his forehead. Apparently, victims of the Killing Curse always have a similar lightning-shaped scar or burn from the force of the spell. For a person to be walking around with a lightning scar like that would indicate that they'd survived such a curse, and the only person in documented history to do so was Harry. Right now, though, Harry's hair covered the scar perfectly.

As he nudged his wife and nephew forward through the pub, Connor looked around with a pleasant smile, nodding to a couple people he passed by. When they made it to the back, Connor held open the door for them to step into the small space between the back of the pub and a stone wall. 

Petunia gave a sigh of relief before visibly steeling herself again. Taking notice of this, Harry squeezed her hand, which she returned with a grateful grin. It must be difficult, he figured, to be in the world of her sister, her husband, and her nephew, and to know how different she was. She admitted to calling Lily a freak earlier, but here, Petunia was the abnormal one. 

Connor took out his wand and tapped the wall in front of them at various spots, his expression as focused as if he were entering a complicated password. When he stepped back and the stones in the wall shifted to the side on their own, Harry realized that it _was_ actually a password. 

But even the awe of seeing the wall open itself up paled in comparison to the sight the wall revealed. It was a street of shops with all kinds of names that referenced all kinds of magical necessities, from books to plants to---

"Flying broomsticks?" Harry laughed, stunned as they passed by that shop. 

Connor grinned at that, only faltering when his wife swallowed thickly. As he took Petunia's other hand, he casually replied to his nephew, "Yes, we'll have to get you a broom eventually. Not now, though. You won't be able to use it this year, but your friends will certainly want to play Quidditch with you when you visit them between terms, and you might want to join a Quidditch team at school later on."

"What's Quidditch?" Harry asked, the foreign word feeling funny in his mouth but strangely familiar at the same time. 

"It's a sport, like football, but in the air." 

Moaning, Petunia muttered, "I'm never going to get over that. How do people not fall while they play?"

Connor opened his mouth like he wanted to say something but thought better of it. Before Harry could wonder whether the subject Connor would broach pertained to the fact that people did actually fall, his uncle instead decided to point out a shop called Flourish and Blotts. "Well, we've got to get your textbooks for school, then."

Harry took out the list of supplies he'd been sent with his letter of acceptance to Hogwarts. A name stuck out among the authors of the books he needed. "Newt Scamander? Is that Uncle Newt?"

He was, of course, referring to Connor's father, but for the sake of brevity, he always referred to him as Uncle Newt instead of as his great-uncle. Of course, the eccentric man felt much more like a grandad when he visited, but if Harry called him that, he'd feel obliged to call Connor and Petunia his mum and dad... and while they very much were that to him, the last time Harry had accidentally called Petunia Mummy when he was a very little boy, she looked like she was about to cry. He couldn't bring himself to risk her tearing up like that again.

Connor nodded, holding open the door to the bookshop for his wife and nephew. "We won't need to get his book, seeing as I have a few signed copies. Never leave home without at least one, just in case I run into one of Dad's fans."

"So I only need to look for seven books," Harry muttered, looking down at the list as he walked in. 

It seemed like it would be an easy enough task, but when he lifted his gaze, he realized how big and vast the shop seemed. There were books everywhere - on bookshelves where they should be, but also stacked up next to the shelves, on top of the shelves, and even just in the middle of the floor. Some were so large, Harry wasn't sure he was able to lift them by himself, and others were so small, he wondered if there were even smaller ones that were invisible to the naked eye. And they didn't all seem to be organized by alphabet or even grouped by being the same book, either.

"We've got our work cut out for us," Connor said brightly, not seeming at all disturbed by the chaos of the shop. He took the list from Harry. "Shall we divide the work or look for them together?"

Petunia asked, "Do you think it would be safe to let Harry wander around here by himself?"

Looking up from the list to glance between her and Harry, Connor replied, "The most dangerous thing around here is a rabid fan, and as long as he keeps his scar covered, he'll be perfectly safe. Though, if you're worried, you can go with him."

Harry's cheeks flared at the idea that he would need his aunt to walk around with him to keep him safe, and if it wasn't for the fact that he was holding his aunt's hand for her sake, he would have wanted to let go immediately and decry that he wasn't a little kid anymore. As it was, he calmly slipped his hand out of hers to smooth his hair down over his forehead and replied, "I'll be fine on my own."

Despite her frown in his direction, Petunia nodded sharply once. "Okay. What books am I looking for?"

 _"The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1,_ by Miranda Goshawk and _A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot,"_ Connor read from the list. "Harry, you'll be looking for _Magic Theory_ by Adalbert Waffling and _A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration_ by Emeric Switch. I'll take the other three. Meet back here at the front when we're all done."

Harry repeated the titles to himself before he set off away from them, wandering to the right-most shelves and looking over the spines for the titles and authors he'd been given. He mouthed them over and over to himself as he looked. Wizards didn't have very easy names to remember, apparently.

He was kneeling down and sorting through one of the piles when a dark-skinned girl with bushy hair and an armful of books rounded the corner and nearly tripped over him. She looked about his age, but the intelligence in her eyes gave her the air of maturity of a girl a few years older.

"Oh, sorry," she said under her breath, sounding exhilarated. "Didn't see you there. Lots of books laying about."

Nodding politely to her, Harry went back to his searching, but the girl wasn't done there. 

"Are you a first year?" she asked. She carefully set her stack of books on the floor - and Harry noticed that it was most of the books he'd needed as well. "I am, and a Muggleborn, too. You look as lost as I've felt these past few days."

She spoke rather quickly, and all Harry could do was nod again before she continued again.

"Do you want help looking for some of your books? I saw a more than a few other copies while looking for mine, though I'm still missing a couple."

"That would be loads of help, thanks," Harry grinned, finally managing to speak as his brain caught up with her words. This girl was in the same year as him and she was - what was that word? - Muggleborn. Hadn't his mother been Muggleborn, too? So she knew about as much about magic as he did. It was nice to meet someone on the same level of understanding as he was. "I'm looking for _Magic Theory_ and _A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration._ What about you?"

The girl looked through her stack and picked out two books. "Scamander's _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them _and Trimble's _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection._ Here are the books you're looking for, so you know what they look like."__

__She handed him the books, and he scanned the covers, looking for book spines that matched the same hue, along with the titles she'd said she was looking for. He found the Transfiguration book for himself, coincidentally next to the book on dark forces that the girl had needed. She'd discovered a copy of his other book not long after, and Harry was set on looking for the Fantastic Beasts book before he remembered what his uncle said._ _

__"Wait, I think I know where I can get you a copy of Scamander's book," Harry said, tucking his books under his arm._ _

__The girl's eyes sparkled. "Where?"_ _

__"Come on." He led her back to the front of the shop, where his uncle was waiting for him with three books in arm. "Uncle Connor!"_ _

__"Harry," his uncle grinned as the boy rushed to him, looking pleased by the fact that he wasn't alone. "Who's this, then?"_ _

__"Uncle, this is---" Harry blinked, pausing before he turned to the girl next to him. "Sorry, I've forgotten my manners all this time. What's your name?"_ _

__With a giggle, the girl said, "I think that's my fault, being so stuck on books. I'm Hermione Granger."_ _

__He would have shook her hand, but her arms were full of books once again, so he settled on a curt nod. "Harry Potter."_ _

___"The_ Harry Potter?" she gasped, looking like she might drop the heavy tomes in her arms. "You're the Boy Who Lived?"_ _

__Rather than dwell on the title, Harry just said, "I sure would hope so," and turned back to his uncle. "Uncle Connor, do you really keep at least one signed copy of Uncle Newt's book with you everywhere you go?"_ _

__Hermione's breath hitched as she connected the dots, and she looked up at Connor with wide eyes._ _

__If the man seemed to notice her excitement, he paid it no mind, reaching into his cloak with his free hand. He pulled out a slim book bound in a light blue cover - the same color as Harry remembered his Uncle Newt always wore whenever he visited on holidays or birthdays. "'Course I do. I'm guessing Miss Granger also needs a copy for her school list."_ _

__He handed the book to her freely, and there were practically stars in her eyes as she asked, "How much for it?"_ _

__"Nothing," Connor shrugged, re-settling himself with the books in his arms comfortably. "I've got dozens of them at home - can't get rid of them fast enough."_ _

__"Really, sir, I insist," she tried again. "My parents have a couple extra Galleons from converting our money for school supplies."_ _

__When Conner shook his head again, Harry interjected, "You helped me find my books. This is just helping you find yours."_ _

__Her smile was soft, and she looked a bit surprised, like few people, if any, had ever freely given her something in return for her help. "Of all the things I've heard about you, Harry Potter, no one ever warned me how nice you and your family were."_ _

__"The rumor mill is rarely ever accurate," Connor said, looking away with distaste twinging his otherwise pleasant demeanor. "Especially around here. Harry, have you seen your aunt?"_ _

__Harry turned around, trying to recall what direction she'd went off in. Hermione leaned back to look through the aisles before asking, "Is she tall, blonde, and pretty?"_ _

__"That's the one," said Connor._ _

__"She's with my parents. Mum, Dad!" Hermione shifted her books in her arms to wave them over. "Come meet Mr. Scamander and his nephew!"_ _

__The Grangers emerged from the bookshelves, each with a book in arm, and Petunia was right behind them with her books as well. Hermione looked like a good blend of her parents; she had her mother's strong stance and wild curls with her father's bright, intelligent eyes and easy smile._ _

__"It seems my nephew and husband met your daughter while we were talking," Petunia laughed lightly at the coincidence._ _

__Hermione's mother took her husband's arm and chirped, "Oh, our 'Mione already has a friend! How adorable, Richard."_ _

__"Mum," Hermione whined, evidently embarrassed by being called adorable._ _

__Though Harry was sympathetic to her embarrassment, he found himself grinning for the same reason Mrs. Granger was - he'd managed to make a friend already. His previous years in school hadn't yielded similar results. While he tried his best to be kind to his peers, there was the odd incident (which Harry assumed had to do with magic) or bully that would cause him to be relatively alone in one way or another. This was a major change, and it was one that Harry quite liked._ _


End file.
